


Uses of a Rec Room

by toastweasel



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, i am but a humble smut peddler selling my wares, pls...have some gay scientists fucking in a weight room
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 12:12:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19084792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toastweasel/pseuds/toastweasel
Summary: Sequel to 'Uses of a Tie'...and everything that entails. ;)





	Uses of a Rec Room

**Author's Note:**

> I LIVED! I SURVIVED GRAD SCHOOL! I have an entire Master's degree with my name on it and everything!
> 
> We have smut to celebrate, yes? Yes. Obviously. Enjoy, lovelies!

“Ah, Dr. Ziegler, I’m glad you could join me.” Moira’s burr was practically as purr as Angela stepped through the hissing automatic doors to the rec hall.

Angela did not look impressed. She held up her communicator with a raised eyebrow. “ _Meet me in the weight room immediately?_ You know I have things to do, right, Moira? I’m very busy with the new recruits right now.”

“Aren’t you, though?” Moira asked with an infuriating smirk, as if she both questioned Angela purported workload and also wished to make an innuendo.

“Moira—”

“Athena, please close and lock all doors to the rec hall until I say otherwise.” Moira interrupted, and waiting until the small rectangular box in the ceiling that represented the AI blinked in recognition of her instructions. “Also frost the glass to 95% and cease all recordings inside of this room, same command instructions as the locks.”

“Frost the glass? Moira what are you—?”

The doors whooshed closed behind them and locked with a thud. The ambient light in the room dimmed as the windows immediately became cloudy before the lights in the room adjusted automatically to compensate. Moira went to test the doors. It was only when she was certain they were locked that she turned back towards Angela.

“Do you remember when you tied me to that chair and spent almost an hour torturing me?”

The memory of Moira, naked and deliciously disheveled, knotted expertly to a hard metal folding chair with her own tie, came to Angela like the event had been yesterday. “I do.”

Moira stepped towards her now, eyes almost predatory. “Do you remember leaving me to suffer and _do paperwork_ after you worked me up?”

Angela’s lip quirked up. Teasing Moira until she burst, almost literally, had been thoroughly enjoyable. “Oh, yes.”

“Do you remember I swore I would get my revenge for that little stunt?”

A shiver went up Angela’s spine that had nothing to do with fear, and her nanobots hummed underneath her skin at the sudden rush of arousal the implications brought. “No.”

“Shame on you for forgetting,” Moira practically purred, and closed the distance between them. She was warm and solid in front of her, and when Angela inhaled she could smell the spice of her cologne mixed with the sweetness of pomade. “I haven’t.”

It had been months since the incident. When the two of them, desperate to blow off some steam, had gotten frisky in the experimental lab. She had tied Moira to a folding chair and teased her until the older woman squirted all over the chair. It had been easy to clean up, and afterwards she finally gave Moira (and herself) an orgasm, but not before Moira has sworn revenge for the teasing.

They had had plenty of sex since then, on again off again fuck buddies with some occasional feelings attached, but Angela had all but forgotten all the promise in the haze of good sex. Until now. The memory of the cool lab air, Moira’s swearing in Gaelic, the way Angela had dominated her...it all came back to her in a rush with frigid clarity.

And then the realization.

Moira was going to get her revenge—right here, right now—at 1435 on a Thursday afternoon in the rec hall weight room.

“You’re impossible,” Angela snapped, but in the playful way they had built up over the last few months.  

“I have been told this, yes,” Moira murmured, and leaned in to nibble at her neck.

Angela squirmed happily. “It’s the middle of the day, Moira!”

The protest was weak, and even she knew it. It had been a long few weeks, what with several new field assignments that resulted in her trotting halfway across the globe multiple times to take care of ungrateful soldiers on the battlefield while Moira stayed on base. Angela had come back from the last mission to a promotion, and had had to move her things from the experimental lab and into a tiny office far, far away from the lab and, most importantly, Moira.  

They had not had the chance to be together since she came back, and had no chance to blow off steam the way only they knew how. Angela realized she was desperate for it, and Moira must be, too. The perfect excuse to exact her revenge.

“It _is_ , indeed, the middle of the day.” Moira’s her Irish burr huskily against her ear. She pressed Angela back against a piece of equipment and towered over her, all smarm and intoxicating arrogance. “Your precious new subordinates are just going to have to wait.”

“I suppose so,” Angela agreed, then pulled her down to her level and slotted her mouth over Moira’s in a deep and hungry kiss.

Moira clearly had wanted to be the one in charge, but let her take the lead for the moment. She satisfied herself instead by grabbing at Angela, testing and kneading her curves through her clothing and making her moan. The proximity together, after the weeks apart, was exhilarating.

Angela’s pressed herself to her and hooked a leg around Moira’s. Her body pained her—she’d had a headache since her return, and for the past few days there had been tension in her neck and a soreness in her back that came from too much sitting behind a desk and not enough standing in the lab or running through a warzone.

But now, Moira’s hands worked to elicit a whole new sort of ache. Angela didn’t need a medical degree to know that this would be far more pleasurable.

Moira’s mouth drifted from her mouth and her neck, and as she kissed behind the shell of her right ear she groused, “We haven’t fucked in _weeks_.”

Angela moaned softly, half in acknowledgement, half because Moira nipped a sensitive spot to make the point. “No, we haven’t…”

“You’ve been off playing hero.”

“It’s not—”

“Playing hero,” Moira repeated, and slid her hand between Angela’s legs to massage her through the fabric of her slacks. Angela gasped and pressed to her hand, then grabbed her by the hair and forced her back up to her mouth. The growl that slipped from between Moira’s lips as she kissed her set her nerves alight.

“You’re far better suited in the lab with me,” Moira said when they broke apart.

“Tell that to Commander Morrison.”

Moira snorted and backed her towards the cable machine. Angela noticed for the first time leather cuffs had been attached to the sliding pulleys of the cables.

“You aren’t going to make use of your tie?” Angela teased.

Moira shot her a look and gestured for her to stand between the two cable machine towers. “You’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

Angela paused for a second and then shrugged out of her labcoat, then briskly started to unbutton her blouse. Moira took the coat and draped it over a nearby piece of equipment, then came back and took Angela’s wrists in her hands.

“Spoiling all the fun for me, hm?”

“We do have work to be getting back to.”

“So you’ve said.” Moira leaned in and nibbled at her skin as long fingers finished off her work. She pushed her hands around to unclip Angela’s bra with practiced ease, then dipped into the cups and palmed her breasts. Her hands were warm against the doctor’s goosefleshed skin, and she knew the way Angela like to be handled. She tugged on a nipple and Angela inhaled uncharacteristically sharply.

Moira looked up at her and thumbed a nipple experimentally. “Sensitive today, are we?”

“It’s the week before my period. Of course I’m sensitive.”

Moira smirked and tweaked her again, just to see the look on her face. “Sensitive in other places, too, I’d wager.”

Angela growled, but obligingly let her blouse fall to the floor so Moira could continue her work.  The geneticist skimmed a hand down her front to the hem of Angela’s slacks, then slid in drew one long finger tantalizingly between her lips. The doctor pressed her lips together to muffle the sound when Moira pressed hard against the bud of her clit.

“You are nowhere near as wet as you should be, _Angel.”_

“That seems like a deficiency on your part, _Doctor_ O’Deorain.”

Moira frowned playfully and pulled back. “If that’s the case…your bra, please.”

Angela took off the offending article of clothing as Moira reached up and pulled the dangling left cuff down to waist level. The machine clattered metallically as the cables drew and the pulleys turned.

Wordlessly, Angela offered up her wrist. Moira took it, then with a deceptively gentle hand, Moira spun her to face the machine and unceremoniously applied the cuff. When she was sure the straps were secure, she pulled away.

“Release tension on the cable.”

Angela did, and the weights fell with a clack, pulling her arm above her head. Moira moved to set the weight stack to larger than anything even Reinherdt could lift, then went to secure the second cuff.

“Interesting restraints solution,” Angela goaded teasingly as Moira fiddled with the buckle.

“It is nothing if not effective. Up.”

Angela raised her arm; the weights fell, and Moira adjusted them. As she did so, Angela said, “You’ll have to come see my new Officers quarters. The bed is detached, plenty of room for restraints.”

Moira paused, and Angela swore she could see her eyes dilate slightly as her mind raced with the implications. “My dear Dr. Ziegler, what ever could you be suggesting?”

“Nothing nearly as filthy as you using communal weight equipment as your personal Saint Andrews Cross.”

“I sanitized everything before you arrived.”

“And you’ll sanitize everything after we’re done.”

“But of course.” Moira straightened from the weight stack and circled back around to where Angela was standing. “You’ll find I’ve not restrained your legs, though, so it can’t be a real Saint Andrews Cross.”

“I figured you were simply waiting to get me out of my slacks,” the doctor replied, twisting her head as far as she was able to follow Moira until she disappeared behind her. “There are plenty of tie off points.”

Thin lips ticked upwards in a small smirk. “In due time.”

Her hands came up from behind and weighed Angela’s breasts in her palms, the length of her body pressed to Angela. The silk of her tie was cool against the doctor’s back. She pressed into her hands as she massaged and squeezed, her nipples pebbling under her touch. Her breasts weren’t necessarily extremely sensitive, but the feeling of her entire body touching Moira spurned her arousal.

It was when Moira switched from massaging to expertly rolling her nipples between her forefinger and thumb that Angela squirmed happily. _That_ stoked something deep inside her, something that made her widen her legs in an attempt to coax Moira’s thigh between then.

“Your desperation this early on amuses me,” Moira practically cooed. Angela shivered; her mouth was right by her ear. Then her mouth was on her neck, and Angela felt the wet hard press of teeth and tongue.

“No—”

“Hickies, I know.” The puff of breath from her words was cold against the saliva she had spread there. “We can’t let the force know the esteemed Doctor Ziegler is fucking the lowly basement geneticist, can we?”

“I—”

“Someone has an image to maintain,” Moira continued, and tweaked her nipples hard to accentuate her point. Angela gasped and her hips pumped on their own accord. She felt Moira smirk against her skin. She glanced down and watched one large pale hand shift from her breast into her pants—the feeling of fingers sliding over her clit snapped her head back, and she moaned.

“Much wetter already. Good.” Moira’s fingers continued down, traced her entrance and dipped there. Angela pressed to them, but they were gone, back up between her folds. They slipped under her clitoral hood and Moira pressed one fingers directly to her.

Angela cried out; it was almost painful, but pleasurably so. The weights clacked quietly in the background as she shifted against the cuffs in response to the stimulation.

Moira’s fingers started to circle. The doctor groaned.

How Moira got her pants off single handedly was beyond Angela, but all she knew was that the pressure never faltered and her fingers never let up. She built higher and higher on Moira’s ministrations, lost in the pleasure she had missed for weeks out in the field, or the late nights in her new office instead of the experimental lab. She was hot and sweaty but Moira was steady, even as she squirmed and arched for more.

She didn’t get anything more than just Moira’s fingers, but her fingers were plenty. She came mere moments after her pants hit the floor, the shock of the cool air hitting her at the same time as her orgasm. She revealed in the vertigo that came with the mix fiery climax and the sudden goosebumps.

“F-f-f-uuuck,” Angela moaned softly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Moira’s chuckle as her satisfaction waned was deep and grounding. “Very good, Angela.”

Angela murmured nonsensically, her brain still fuzzy. She leaned her head back on Moira’s shoulder and Moira held her for a second, letting her regain her bearing. The rest of Moira’s fingers joined the first two to cup her cunt as it throbbed held her hand to her cunt as it throbbed.

After a time, Angela finally found her words. “I can’t believe you let me have that.”

“Even I can be benevolent.”

Moira withdrew her hand, and Angela instantly missed it. The air of the rec room was cool against her slick sex. Moira moved around behind her and Angela heard rustling. She strained to see what Moira was doing, but could not see.

Something smacked against her ass—hard. Angela cried out.

“Now, now, _Angel._ You know better than to peek.”

The doctor resist the urge to growl. “Is that why you tie me up?”

“Oh no.” Moira leaned in again, her body warm and harsh at the same time, her clothing rough against Angela’s bare skin. “Do you remember, my dear Dr. Ziegler, when you threatened me with the crop in the lab?”

She did. Vividly.

 _“Don’t make me go get a crop,”_ Angela had said.

 _“Sit still like a good girl and I’ll be with you in a minute.”_ She had said.

At the time the sight of Moira tied up, sex crazed and frustrated, it had been too tempting to tease. She swallowed and twisted her head up high, proud to the end. “I should have gotten it.”

“And what would that have gotten you, hmm?”

Angela felt something soft trail up the inside of her thigh and looked down to see Moira wielding her favorite crop. The plum purple leather was dark against her skin. She felt weak in her knees. “I see you’ve decided to do something with it instead.”

“Oh yes.” Moira pulled away from her, and Angela mourned the loss. “I hope you enjoyed that first orgasm, because you’ll be waiting quite a while to have another. It’s time for your punishment. Spread your legs.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll force them.”

Angela kept her legs firmly closed. This was their little game, had been since the beginning. Neither of them gave any ground, and it made the sex all the better. She’d give anything to see her face, she was sure Moira was fuming.

A crack against her backside from the crop shocked her out of her smugness. “I said _open._ ”

When she didn’t, Moira snarled. Cool fingers wrapped around her ankle and practically yanked her leg to the side. Her touch was replaced with the smooth softness of more leather.

The cuffs she had been promised.

“Now, are you going to be difficult, or must we force the other one, too?”

Moira tone was clipped, but not in the way they were when she was tearing someone (usually one of the smarmy R&D engineers) a new asshole with nothing but her words. The edges of her barbs were smoother, rounded slightly as to not cut. Although Moira would never admit, Angela knew it was because she was being careful, always testing the limits of their play, checking for consent despite Angela’s bratty behavior.

She slid her right leg so Moira could do the cuff.

“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve done all day.” The second cuff was secured, and then the rustle of fabric indicated Moira had stood. Then, the tip of the crop, tracing gently up the line of her spine.

Angela squirmed.

“Let’s see,” Moira said, coolly contemplative. “Twenty, I think, for the impertinence, and ten for your attempt to look earlier.”

Thirty. Thirty lashes. That wasn’t bad.

“And then another twenty for the fact you haven’t as much as spoken to me since your return from the field. I think fifty is a good place to start, don’t you?”

Angela shivered.

Moira continued on. “Would you like them continuously, Dr. Ziegler, or broken up into their specific punishments?”

“Oh, I get a choice?”

“Not for very much longer.”

Angela let out a bark of laughter. “Separate, then.”

“Mmm. Good. We’ll start with twenty.”

Angela nodded and wrapped her hands around the chains of the cuffs that held her arms up.

“Let’s begin.”


End file.
